


For the Tragic Love of Apples

by CreateImagineWrite



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Parody, Protective Knights, Snow White Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreateImagineWrite/pseuds/CreateImagineWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An incredibly bizarre parody of Snow White, where Merlin gets to be the damsel in distress, Morgana is witchy, the Knights are dwarf-like, and the King gets the kiss. Surprisingly, actually not slash. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Tragic Love of Apples

Once upon a time… actually, scratch that, there are better ways to begin stories, I’m sure. Like, er, “in a faraway land”, or “long ago and far away”, or… actually, I’d have to say that “once upon a time” is the best option of those choices.

Where was I? Oh. Right.

Once upon a time, in the land of Camelot, ruled by King Arthur, there lived a sorceress by the name of Morgana. Of course, the citizens of Camelot knew her well. She was the half-sister of the king, a naïve beauty turned harsh by her father’s hatred of magic and a rule of tyranny. Where once she was the envy of every noblewoman for her uncommon grace and loveliness, she became a cruel, cold witch ruled by the passions of her own hatred and lust for revenge. Eventually, the King (and his manservant, Merlin, of course) drove her away, destroying the army she had raised and forcing her to flee to the remote outskirts of Camelot’s boundaries, to a little-known fortress in a thick forest.

There, she found a mirror. But not any mirror, for this looking glass was no ordinary object, but rather a relic of magic from before Uther and his Great Purge. And within this glass dwelled a being, whom Morgana (being of very little imagination) named ‘Mirror.’

Since the banished sorceress had very little to do with her time, she first tried to use the mirror as a way to further her seer abilities. It was a failed attempt, as exemplified by the loss of her eyebrows, a flaming corset and the destruction of a perfectly good pair of shoes. Eventually, she discovered the way to use the glass properly.

And it went a bit like this: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, speak to me and answer my call.” Admittedly, she had been drinking a tad too much mead at the time, to resort to spouting amateur poetry at a supposedly inanimate object.

‘Mirror’ appeared, and of course “spoke and answered her call.” He was greatly unimpressed when she screeched like a banshee and promptly fainted.

However, she eventually woke up sober enough to speak to the little man within the mirror, and she discovered a great many things. This mirror was the key to all knowledge, right at her fingertips! She could learn anything, see anything, watch the world and discover all its secrets, if only she found the right rhyme!

But Morgana was never the type of girl to indulge in poetry. That was Gwen’s job, to be all romantically poetic and so on, while the King’s ward proceeded to soundly beat the crown prince at sword play at the tender age of nine summers.

So, being a vain creature (there are some habits that are simply not broken, especially when one is considered the most beautiful woman in the kingdom for a great deal of their life), she discovered a certain rhyme that is the essence of our story.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

Every day she asked that question, and every day Mirror would reply: “You, my lady. You are the fairest of them all.”

But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, and Morgana began to lose her beauty as she used more and more of her life essence in trivial magic spells to heat water and conjure pretty dresses and jewelry, until one day, she asked the question, and received a very different answer.

“Alas, my lady, for I cannot lie. You are fair, but the fairest stays in Camelot, with hair of ebony, lips of ruby, eyes of sapphire and skin as white as snow.”

“WHO?!” the deranged sorceress cried, grabbing the edges of the mirror.

“His name? Merlin.” And so it began.

After throwing a tantrum that was said to have made the very earth tremble – though admittedly, this account was given by the mirror, and if Morgana had been pounding upon the ground, it would have certainly felt like an earthquake to the being in the looking glass – Morgana proceeded to think of a plan. It simply would not do for a man, and a mere _manservant_ at that, to be more beautiful than herself. She sat herself down in her cobwebby throne, and she thought.

Until, by pure chance, a man stumbled into her court, seeking to escape the drenching rain outside in the relative shelter of the fortress. By the quiver of arrows and bow slung across his back, and by the pelts in his cart, it was evident that the man was a hunter.

Morgana was struck by a sudden idea. A few displays of magic, and this man would be putty in her hands!

__________________________________________________________________

_Several days later…_

“OUCH!” A Merlin-esque cry made Arthur spin around from where he crouched, watching a herd of deer. Or… well… where he _had_ watched a herd of deer, because the skittish creatures had fled at the loud sound and were nowhere to be seen.

“Merlin!” the King exclaimed, exasperatedly.

The (secret) warlock was sucking on one of his fingertips, wincing theatrically. “I caught my finger on a rose bush.” He took out his finger to show his liege a tiny scratch on his porcelain-white skin.

The royal rolled his eyes and threw his hands up to the heavens. “You are such a _girl_!”

The manservant made a face at him, secretly pleased that he’d managed to save a bunch of poor animals from Arthur’s bloodthirsty bow. “Just because you’re a hardened warrior doesn’t mean everyone has to be. Prat.”

“Idiot.”

“Clotpole.”

“Imbec-“

“Er, ‘scuse me?” A foreign voice cut through their bickering.

The two men spun around, Arthur’s jaw comically suspended mid-insult.

“Um… yer King Arthur, ain’t ya? And yer Merlin?” A bedraggled figure dressed in rough furs and with several hunting implements slung around his belt stood before them, a bow across his back and a pelt-laden cart behind him.

The king recollected himself. “Yes, yes we are. And… you are?”

“Name’s Richard,” the hunter stated awkwardly, scratching his head. “I wouldn’t suppose ya ‘appen to know a woman by the name o’ Morgana, would ya?”

Arthur straightened rapidly and stared at the man. “Morgana? Yes, what do you know of her?”

“Well,” the hunter began, “I was huntin’ in the north border and I came across a ruined fortress, ya see? And there was this lady, slightly deranged, mind ya, who did some sort of hocus pocus and told me to come down ‘ere and find someone by the name o’ Merlin. Didn’t tell me why. Told me I had to cut out ‘is ‘eart and put it in this box and bring it back to ‘er.” He pulled out a slightly fancy box that looked to once be designed to hold jewelry, handing it to the manservant, who looked slightly repulsed. “I reckon she meant to enchant me or some such thing, but it didn’t work. Thought I ought to let ya know anyway ‘fore I head back.”

“Why are you heading back?” Merlin asked, fiddling with the complicated clasp on the box absentmindedly. It suddenly popped open, and the brunette let out a rather unmanly scream, shoving the box away into Arthur’s arms. “What _is_ that?!”

Arthur blinked at the squishy object in the box. “It’s a heart. _Really_ , Merlin, must you be such a girl?”

“Heart o’ a pig, actually,” the hunter said, taking the box back. “Woman promised me a rather large reward in gold if I brought yer heart back. Figured she wouldn’t know the difference.”

Merlin looked rather green. “Well, don’t bring that thing near me.” He took a step back and wrapped his arms around himself, mumbling, “Disgusting.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, thank you, my good man.” He let his hand hover over the hunter’s shoulder for a moment before clapping him quickly on the back. He subtly wiped away the dirt and mud on his tunic, smiling all the while.

“Yer welcome, yer majesty. I’ll be goin’ now.” He wandered back into the forest from whence he came, leaving the King and his manservant standing alone.

“Well,” Arthur stated. “I wonder why Morgana wants to kill _you_ now.”

“No idea,” the servant mumbled. “Are you going to send a patrol to search her out in the north?”

The royal shrugged. “Probably not worth it. If she’s trying to murder you now, she must be losing her mind. Can’t be much of a threat.”

Merlin had the nerve to look offended.

________________________________________________________________

_Yet Another Several Days Later…_

Within the northern fortress, the witch Morgana sat quite happily at the vanity table she had set in front of the wall-bound mirror. Before her sat a slightly bloody plate carrying the remnants of a greatly undercooked heart, and traces of the same stains edged her lips. The deranged witch swallowed the last bite of what she believed was Merlin’s heart and turned to look up at the mirror, oblivious to the tiny reflected man’s utter disgust.

Shaking back her less lustrous hair and dropping the fork from hands that now had ragged fingernails, she smiled into the mirror. And while Mirror held back a wince at the blood caked between his mistress’s teeth, the witch once again spouted the only poetry she had managed to think of.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

And the mirror, who was bound to speak only the truth, repeated the words he had told her before. “Alas, my lady, for I cannot lie. You are fair, but the fairest stays in Camelot, with hair of ebony, lips of ruby, eyes of sapphire and skin as white as snow.”

Morgana let loose a gasp and stood, once well-manicured nails curling around the edges of the mirror. “NO! He is dead!”

“Then you have been deceived, my lady,” Mirror stated.

And the banished sorceress screamed and raged, until once again, the Mirror related to me, the very earth trembled and shook.

When she had recollected herself, with dust stains now upon her tattered dress from where she had lain sobbing and writhing on the floor, Morgana paced the halls of the ruined fortress, mumbling to herself. Finally, she returned to the room containing the magic mirror, and thought of a second, equally pathetic rhyming couplet.

“Mirror, mirror, I ask of you, what shall I now go out to do?”

And Mirror, who spoke only truth, not advice, told her something her Seer abilities had not. “You shall leave this place, my lady, in disguise. You shall go to Camelot, and tell many lies. And under an enchanted apple’s thrall, Merlin will choke and then will fall.”

Morgana’s eyes lit with glee, and she turned from the enchanted mirror to the cauldron that sat over the nearby fire, lifting a worn, symbol-covered book from the mantelpiece.

______________________________________________________________________

It was a short time later that our story finds itself within Camelot’s armoury. It was late morning, and six Knights stood around the room, gladly unfastening various bits of armour.

One of them groaned, revealing a purpling bruise on his forearm. “God, I hate training. Did the King wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?” he asked moodily.

Leon shot him a quelling look. “Don’t be so grumpy, Brennis, you’ll be glad for the training when you meet bandits on patrol.”

“Did Arthur die and make you leader, Leon?” Elyan yawned, settling his breastplate onto a nearby shelf. “I agree with Brennis. I’m exhausted.”

“Probably from all that snoring you did last…” the Knight speaking suddenly cut off, making a strange breathy sound, and then started sneezing uncontrollably.

Elyan blinked sleepily at him. “No, more because of all the _sneezing_ you did last night, Geraint. What I did to deserve you as a bunkmate I’ll never know.”

The Knight called Geraint rubbed watery eyes. “It’s not _my_ fault. I have a cold. I’ll see Gaius later. And anyways, the one time you woke up wasn’t because of me. Sir Cador came in late last night, slammed the door quite loudly.”

Leon turned appraising eyes to the handsome Knight named Cador. “And why were you in late last night?”

The Knight in question flushed and turned his eyes to the floor bashfully.

Elyan grumbled as he unlaced his gauntlets. “Probably out with that girl of his, the pretty merchant’s daughter. _Again._ Right, Percival?”

The big Knight just grunted.

Geraint glanced up at him. “Do you ever speak?”

Percival didn’t answer, and Leon raised an eyebrow at him. “Sometimes I wonder if he even can.”

The door to armoury suddenly burst open and Gwaine walked in, balancing a basket along with a couple of slightly dented shields. “Hello, all!” the seventh Knight greeted cheerfully.

“What’s got you so happy?” Brennis growled, still frowning as he pulled his chainmail over his head.

“Apples!”

“Apples?” Elyan queried.

“Apples!” the cheerful Knight repeated, showing off a pile of fruit in the basket he held. Most were green, but one red one stood out among the others. “Old lady in the courtyard gave them to me. Said I should give the red one to Merlin. Apparently he’s too thin.”

“He is too thin. I swear that man never eats,” Geraint agreed. “Where is he anyways? Shouldn’t he be here with Arthur’s armour?”

The underfed man in question chose to arrive at that very moment, precariously balancing a pile of armour in wiry arms.

“Here, let me help you with that, mate,” Gwaine offered, setting down his basket and shields and taking some of the armour. A minute later the King’s armour was arrayed across the nearby table, ready to be repaired and polished.

The brunette manservant shot a grin at the Knights, wiping sweat from his brow. “Thanks. Oh, hey, are those apples?”

Gwaine smiled and tossed the red one to him, grabbing a green one for himself. “Here, have one.”

Merlin thanked him again. “Didn’t get a chance to eat this morning. Woke up late.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes at him and took a crunchy bite out of his apple. “You really need to…”

It was in that moment that the secret warlock took a bite out of his own apple and swallowed. He suddenly froze, one hand going up to his throat, and glanced down bewilderedly at the fruit in his hand.

“…Merlin?” Leon said, looking concerned.

The apple tipped out of the manservant’s grip, and it seemed an eternity as the Knights watched the fruit hit the dusty floor, shortly followed by Merlin’s body.

“Merlin!” Gwaine was at his side in seconds, shaking his shoulders.

The manservant shuddered, both hands at his throat now, and then convulsed in the Knight’s grip. “Gw…Gwaine,” he choked out, blue eyes wide and fearful. Something dribbled from the corner of his mouth. It was red, and thick, and Merlin suddenly started coughing, his body convulsing uncontrollably with each breath expelled from his lungs. The stream of red increased, and as he coughed again, a spatter of blood spread across his blue neckerchief.

“Merlin!” Gwaine’s voice was frantic. “Oh my God, get Gaius! _Somebody get Gaius!_ ”

Elyan bolted out of the armoury up towards the castle, and suddenly everyone seemed to spring into movement. Geraint started shouting. Brennis and Cador started pulling Gwaine away from the body as Percival’s huge frame leaned down and snatched the manservant’s body from his arms.

Leon was on his feet beside Percival, squeezing Merlin’s hand as he convulsed again. “Merlin! Merlin, stay with me!”

The manservant’s hand fluttered weakly in his grip, and his eyes started sliding closed, glazing over as another convulsion shook his thin frame.

“Merlin!” Leon tried again, breaking into a run beside Percival as the group of Knight’s began sprinting towards the castle after Elyan. “Merlin, you’ve got to stay awake! Keep your eyes open!”

The blue-eyed brunette coughed once, expelling another spatter of blood onto his already stained chest, and then his gaze unfocussed entirely.

“Merlin!” the Knight cried, voice panicked.

But he was already unconscious.

Leon swore violently, upset out of his usual cool temperament. “Run! Faster! We have to get him to Gaius!”

It was a frantic group of Knights that burst into the Physician’s chambers minutes later. Elyan was already there, attempting to communicate with Gaius while simultaneously getting his breath back. The elderly man didn’t seem to know what was going on, his hand on one of the dark-skinned Knight’s shoulders as he asked, “What’s happened? What’s this about –”

He cut off suddenly as he caught sight of the limp body of his ward in Percival’s arms.

“Merlin!”

The Knights started shouting all at once.

“There was –”

“Apples, Gaius. I didn’t –”

“Merlin –”

“So much bloo –”

Percival, the only one who hadn’t said a word, pushed forward through the masses and set the blood-spattered body of their friend on the cot Gaius generally used for his patients. The elderly Physician was at his side in seconds, pulling back his eyelids and checking his pulse.

“Quiet!” he suddenly ordered, looking pale. The Knights fell silent instantly. “Leon! Tell me.”

The Knight’s second-in-command stepped forward. “There was an apple, Gaius. He took one bite and then he…  he started convulsing.”

“An apple? Did you bring it?”

Gwaine straightened, shakily holding out the red apple, whole except for the single bite Merlin had managed to swallow. The Physician took it and ran a finger over the edge of his ward’s teeth marks, inspecting his finger as he drew away. He brought the digit to his fingers and took a delicate sniff.

Horror spread across the old man’s features, and he dropped the apple to the floor for the second time that day. He was back at Merlin’s side in an instant, prying open his jaw to look down his throat.

Leon was the one who stepped forward again, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. “Gaius?”

“That apple’s been enchanted,” the elderly Physician stated, his voice shaky.

The silence in the room was so profound you could nearly have heard the dust settling to the floor.

“En… enchanted?”Gwaine stumbled over the word, and Cador suddenly needed to grip his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

“Yes, worse than poison,” the Physician muttered, looking paler. “I don’t know if I can…”

“You have to,” Gwaine interrupted the elderly man, sounding desperate. “He… he can’t! There must be… something…”

Gaius seemed to pull himself together. “Yes, yes of course. Elyan!” His gaze snapped to the dark-skinned knight. “I’ll need water.”

The Knight was out the door instantly. “Geraint, Brennis,” the Physician continued, “Get Gwaine to Merlin’s room, and there’s some medicinal mead on that shelf that he should have for shock.” The two Knights were at their comrade’s side and leading him away as soon as the sentence finished.

Gaius moved to the table and started collecting ingredients towards him, ordering the remaining knights to get various vials from the shelves, glancing at Merlin intermittently.

The secret sorcerer lay like a statue, body shuddering with each shallow breath, cold sweat beginning to bead on his brow. As Gaius began to stir together various herbs, adding the water an even further out-of-breath Elyan handed him, the manservant began to thrash, seeming to choke on each breath he tried to suck into his lungs.

“Percival,” Gaius instructed frantically, “Hold him down or he’ll injure himself.”

The big Knight pinned the smaller man’s arms to the bed, trying to ignore Merlin’s whimpers of pain as he struggled in his grip.

The physician erratically stirred in the last herb and poured the mixture from the bowl into a vial, trying to keep his wrinkled hands from shaking, and then moved to Merlin’s bedside.

As he tilted the bottle and slid a spoonful-sized portion of the green liquid into his ward’s mouth, the door slammed open and King Arthur entered.

“What’s going on?” the royal demanded, glaring around the room. “I’ve been asking for Merlin for…” He froze as he saw his manservant struggling against the combined efforts of Percival and Gaius to keep him still.

“Merlin!”

The convulsing brunette had somehow managed to get one hand free of Percival’s grip, and suddenly got his arm against his guardian’s chest, pushing him away and causing the Physician to loosen his grasp on Merlin’s jaw.

As Arthur started forward, taking in the sight of the blood on his manservant’s chest, the barely-conscious man spat out the little potion that had actually made it into his mouth, along with a significant amount of blood.

“Merlin,” Gaius scolded, sounding slightly panicked as Percival finally managed to get his hand around the manservant’s flailing arm again.

“What’s going on?” Arthur demanded.

“Apples,” Gaius muttered, attempting to get his fingers into Merlin’s mouth to pry it open again, despite the young man’s desperate resistance. “Cursed apples. Merlin! You need to drink this. It’s an antidote!”

“Antidote?” Arthur repeated blankly. “He’s been _poisoned_?”

“Yes! No!” Gaius was far too distracted to be of any help. “Merlin, you will open your mouth this _instant._ ”

The warlock took no notice of his guardian’s frantic words, struggling just as fiercely as he had a moment earlier, so that even muscular Percival was finding it hard to hold him down.

The Physician was getting more panicked by the second, desperately trying to get the vial to Merlin’s lips. “You need to take this, Merlin!” Gaius practically shouted. “Or you’ll die!”

The word ‘die’ seemed to echo eerily in Arthur’s brain, and it took him all of two seconds to decide what to do.

The King suddenly snatched the vial from Gaius’s hand and forcibly pushed the elderly man away from his manservant.

“You _idiot_ ,” he growled at the brunette, and then put the vial to his own lips, pouring the disgusting-tasting liquid into his mouth. He dropped the vial and grimaced – no wonder Merlin didn’t want to drink it – and then without a second thought, he crushed his own lips to his friend’s, using one hand to hold his nostrils closed and the other to pry his jaw open.

Pushing the antidote into Merlin’s mouth with his tongue, he kept his hands and lips in place, sealing off the manservant’s air until he was forced to instinctually swallow, even while fighting the combined weight of his King and the largest of Camelot’s Knights.

The royal remained where he was for several more seconds, just to make sure the antidote was definitely ingested, and then pulled back.

Merlin instantly gasped for air, ripping his hands out of Percival’s grip, which had relaxed for just a second as the danger passed, and started clawing at his throat, convulsing even more violently.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, cerulean blue full of panic and pain, and then pulled himself up on his elbows to lean over the side of the bed. There, he promptly vomited all over King Arthur’s boots.

The royal took a startled, disgusted step back, which turned out to be a good thing to do, because Merlin promptly threw up a second time, and then a third, directly onto the floorboards of the Physician’s chamber. But it wasn’t until the fourth time his stomach attempted to empty itself onto the floor that he managed to expel the piece of apple that had caused all the trouble in the first place.

As soon as this happened, the exhausted manservant fell back onto the bed, frame shuddering uncontrollably. “G… Gaius?” he stammered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

The Physician breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re alright, Merlin.”

Blue eyes fluttered open for a second, and fell on the face of King Arthur. His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish’s before he managed to find the words.

“You… you _kissed_ me!” his voice, while quiet, still managed to convey the amount of horror and shock he felt.

And then his eyes slid shut and he fell back into unconsciousness.

____________________________________________________________

It was several days later when awareness began to return to Merlin’s mind. The first thing he recalled hearing was a somewhat confusing story about a set of stairs and a woman’s broken shoe, which he was fairly certain was told in Gwaine’s voice, but he had slid under before he could figure out what the man was going on about. The second thing he remembered was Gaius checking his pulse and talking to someone in the background.

But this time, the third time, it was different. He could hear several familiar voices, one of which he recognized as Arthur’s, and… was that Gwen? But rather than fading out, like the other two times he’d nearly woken, they appeared to be getting clearer.

“How long’s it been now?” someone asked.

“Three days.” That was Gaius, he thought.

“Shouldn’t he have woken by now?” That sounded like Arthur, impatient.

“No, Sire, he’ll need time to recover. Though I expect he’ll wake relatively soon.”

“Poor man.” He felt a gentle hand squeeze his fingers. Yes, that was definitely Gwen. “I wonder why Morgana wanted to kill him.”

Arthur snorted. “She was completely mad when we caught up with her. She kept mumbling about a ‘magic mirror’ and ‘fairest of them all.’ I don’t think she was in her right mind when she decided to curse those apples.”

Apples. That reminded him of something. Something… what was it?

“Well,” Gwen was speaking again. “She certainly can’t hurt him anymore.”

“No, she can’t.” Arthur’s voice sounded harsh, and slightly angry.

Something nudged at Merlin’s consciousness. Did that mean… was Morgana dead? His eyes snapped open and he tried to sit up too rapidly, so his blood rushed to his head and his eyesight started going dark at the edges.

“Merlin!” several voices said simultaneously.

“’Ello,” the warlock greeted groggily, letting himself slide back as his eyesight refused to adjust.

“How are you feeling, my boy?”

Merlin blinked several times, so that his guardian’s face finally came back into focus. “…Confused?” he finally decided. “What happened? I remember… training? And then…?”

“Morgana managed to slip you a cursed apple. You nearly died,” Gaius informed him.

Apples. Yes, that _was_ familiar. “Wait,” he squinted as he tried to remember. “…Gwaine?”

Something clicked. “Wait! _Morgana_?!” He suddenly turned accusingly to Arthur. “I _told_ you that you should have sent someone to the north!”

The King scowled. “How was I supposed to know she was going to try to kill you?”

“She sent a hunter to _cut out my heart_. Doesn’t that give you a hint?”

“And he was supposed to trick her with the pig’s heart,” Arthur pointed out.

“Well, it obviously didn’t work,” the manservant stated, crossing his arms grumpily, oblivious to the Queen’s barely suppressed giggles.

“I’ll just leave you two to it, shall I?” Gwen said, smiling, and then she and Gaius left them to their own devices.

The door shut on a quiet room as King and servant stared at each other.

Arthur gave up first, walking forward to settle himself on the stool left at Merlin’s bedside. “Alright, I’m sorry. But I actually did send a patrol North, just a few days before you… “ He broke off. “The fortress was empty, according to them, so she must have already left by that point.”

Merlin uncrossed his arms and sighed. “Fine.”

“She’s dead now,” Arthur continued, looping his fingers together and resting his chin on them. “We found her trying to head north, half mad. She didn’t even look like Morgana anymore.”

“You went after a sorceress?” Merlin looked alarmed.

“None of her spells seemed to work. And she kept breaking off to rant about magic mirrors. It wasn’t as hard as we thought it would be. Gwaine managed to end it.”

Merlin turned away and used his finger nails to pick at a bit of loose thread on his blanket, feeling a strange mixture of pity and relief at Morgana’s demise.

“Gwaine blamed himself, you know.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, looking strangely reminiscent of Gaius.

“He’s the one who just decided to feed you an apple he got from a stranger,” Arthur reminded him.

The manservant snorted, then smiled slightly sadly. “You know what Gwaine and apples are like. It’s almost worse than him and mead.”

The King had to smile at that. “True, he’s still going to apologize several hundred times, I’ll imagine.”

“He doesn’t need to.”

“He still will.”

They were silent for a moment, then Merlin blinked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Wait a minute…” he pushed himself upright and stared at Arthur. “You… you _kissed_ me!”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did!” The manservant looked revolted. “There was tongue and everything!”

“I was not kissing you! I was saving your life!”

“On what strange world do people consider it normal to save someone’s life by _kissing_ them?!”

“It worked, didn’t it!”

“So you’re admitting you kissed me?” Merlin crowed triumphantly.

“I… I mean…”

“I’m flattered, Arthur. But really, what is _Gwen_ going to think?”

“Merlin!”

“And frankly, it was a horrible kiss. You had to have _Percival_ pin me down.”

“ _Mer_ lin!”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Shut Up.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin grinned.

_____________________________________________________________

**_The End_ **


End file.
